Resurrection
by The Raisin Girl
Summary: Each time Castiel dies, he's given a choice. He always chooses to come back. (Spoilers up to season seven, suggestions of Destiel but no outright slashiness...unfortunately.)
1. Chapter 1

When Castiel turns his face to the glaring white light of his brother's Grace, he believes it will be the last thing he ever sees. He doesn't yet have the capacity to really regret that, or wonder what comes after for an angel, if anything. Perhaps the Winchesters have had more influence on him than he realizes, though, because after the unspeakably painful sensation of his atoms burning into nothing fades, he does have the capacity to be surprised that he still has thoughts.

He's in an unfamiliar place, all pale colors and soft light, so different from the blinding death he just walked through. Looking down, he discovers he still wears the guise of Jimmy Novak, though there is a conspicuous emptiness within him that says Jimmy is gone. Nevertheless, Castiel doesn't feel alone.

"I sent him home," says a soft, familiar voice in his ear. Castiel spins around, heart alight with fear and joy, but sees no one.

"Father!" He half cries it into the white emptiness around him. It doesn't matter that he's never heard his father's voice before. It resonates to his very core, he knows it. He would know that voice anywhere.

"Castiel, my son," it speaks again. "You have been disobedient."

It's a terrible thing, and he knows it. He should tremble to stand before God and be called disobedient, but somehow he can't find it in himself to feel anything other than a quiet, glowing contentment. The certainty he has sought for so long fills him, and he answers with a calm assurance that everything is as it should be.

"Yes, Father. I have been disobedient."

"But not to me." The voice is kind, perhaps a bit amused, and it confuses Castiel a little.

"Sir?"

"You disobeyed your elder brothers when they asked you to do something that you knew was contrary to my will and my ways. You alone, of all your brothers, hold the truth in your heart, and it guides you on a path more straight and narrow than that found by blindly following any number of orders. It is a commendable trait, Castiel."

He cocks his head to the side, trying to feel the breath of that voice and failing, trying to understand what he is being told, and reconcile it with what his brothers have told him.

"My brothers think it makes me an abomination." The voice sighs, and Castiel hears weariness, the kind that comes with millennia of dealing with wayward children.

"As with so many other things, your brothers are wrong. Now…what would you like to do?"

"Do?" Castiel wishes—perhaps blasphemously, he isn't sure—that he could see his father's face. He wishes he didn't feel so much like an unschooled child.

"Yes, Castiel," the voice returns, infinitely patient. "What would you like to do now?"

"Sir…I don't understand."

"Would you like to go back? Would you like to move on? The choice is yours and yours alone, Castiel."

Castiel thinks of the earth and all its wonders. He thinks of Jimmy Novak and his family, of Bobby Singer and his gruff affection. He thinks of Sam, so eager to meet an angel even as they damn him in their thoughts. He thinks of Dean, Dean, always Dean, forever Dean, Dean who he knows from freckles to marrow. He looks at his father's face.

"I would like to go back."

* * *

The entire time he was on Earth, he remembered nothing of his talk with God. The moment he finds himself back in that soft, white light, however, it's as if the scales fall from his eyes and he remembers everything. It only takes a fraction of a second, and then he's on his knees, face lifted into the emptiness and voice cracking as he pleads with the air.

"I have to go back! Please Father, you have to send me back!"

"Shhh," the voice is there in his ear once more, as gentle and calming as it was the last time, but Castiel can feel none of its soothing calm now. He's in a panic, everything in him screaming to get back to Dean, to save Dean from being torn apart by Lucifer in his brother's skin. Tears prick his eyes, and he doesn't even stop to wonder when he became human enough to cry.

"Shhh, Castiel. It's alright. Sam Winchester chose his brother, in the end. Lucifer and Michael have been sealed away, where they can harm no one but themselves with their pointless feud."

"But...Sam. Dean. _Adam_, they—"

"Adam's soul will not be left to rot in Hell, Castiel. He was innocent in all this, and has already been restored to his place in Heaven. As for Sam...he will be rescued, Castiel. I promise you, you will find a way."

"And the state of Heaven? The wrath of the angels? Dean...I can't leave him alone."

"You won't, Castiel. Not unless you choose to do so."

"That is something I would never choose." Castiel says it like a fact, and he swears he can feel God smiling at him.

"I know, my son. Shall I send you back now?"

"Please," Castiel says. "There is one more thing I don't understand. All that time I spent looking for you...and after Joshua...I thought you didn't care."

"I care for all my children, Castiel."

* * *

There is no calm when he arrives, and no immediate contrition, either. Castiel feels angry, more than anything, frustrated and thwarted like he's been for the last two years, and it makes him recklessly, dangerously honest.

"Castiel," the voice says, sounding shocked and sorrowful. "Castiel. What have you done?"

"Only what you lacked the courage to do, Father."

"Swallow the souls of Purgatory? Do business with the King of Hell? Murder thousands of your own brothers? You tried to become God, Castiel!"

"Someone had to do your job! You think this is what I wanted? You think this is how I hoped things would turn out? You left! You filled our heads with dreams and plans and left us, alone and confused and ill-equipped to make our own choices! You left your most beloved creations at the mercy of a bunch of angry, wounded children! And meanwhile you just hide away somewhere, sit on your ass and _watch _it all go to Hell, then pretend it's not your mess to clean up just because you don't think it ought to be anymore? What kind of father does that? What kind of God does that make you?"

"You forget yourself, son." The voice is as gentle as ever, but there's an undercurrent of warning there. Castiel ignores it, jerks away from the voice and wishes he knew which direction he should be turned to give the damn thing a well-deserved cold shoulder.

"Don't call me son. Don't _ever_ call me that. If there's one thing I truly do want to forget about myself, it's the faith I used to place in you."

"Have you come so far and still learned nothing? Shall I send you back again?"

That cuts through Castiel's anger, and for the first time a note of panic creeps into his mind at the thought of being sent back to Earth…back to all that he hurt and betrayed.

"No," he chokes. "Please. Not again, please not again. Just let me die. Let me rest!"

"And the humans? Would you leave them to their fates, leave them to deal with your mess as you accuse me of so thoughtlessly doing?"

"_I _am not their creator."

"You created one." Should condemnation sound so kind? Castiel doesn't think so. He suddenly understands, with stinging clarity, the passage of the humans' Bible that speaks of heaping burning coals on your enemies' heads with kindness.

He closes his eyes in defeat. When he speaks his voice is a shattered rasp of a whisper, broken but still full of the nameless thing that has made his father so determined not to give up on him, not even after this.

"Yes. I created one, and no, I will not leave him alone. Send me back."

Every time Castiel dies, God gives him a choice. It's unorthodox—he's always been a one chance, one life kind of guy—but he does it anyway. He doesn't make it easy; after all, what kind of parent would he be if he let his children go around destroying the world with no consequences? But even with all his mistakes, Castiel impresses him like no other. Each time he chooses to go back, and always for the same reason. It's like nothing else in the universe, not in past, present, or future. And he would know, wouldn't he? After all, he _is _God.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is something I've been bouncing around in my head for a while. It started with thinking of how a conversation with God would go if Cas were ever given the opportunity, and how that conversation might change over time. And then I got the intriguing idea of what happens between each of Cas's deaths and resurrections (I don't for a second believe it's really a punishment the way Cas seems to think it is), and this happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** This wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. The chronology here is a little weird, because this second part is accidentally a continuation of the first chapter of "Breaking Point." So, if you haven't read that, read it first and then read this for it to make some kind of sense. Then read the second chapter of "Breaking Point." Or, you know, don't. Just...this is what happens when my fics get scrambled together. Whoops.

* * *

"Here you are again, Castiel. You know…last time was supposed to be just that. The last time."

Castiel blinks his eyes open to see that familiar blinding white, familiar because he remembers being here so many times before. He remembers the fear and the confusion, the helplessness and the anger of it. Castiel sits up slowly, feeling dazed. He also remembers very definitely dying, and there is a stab of disappointment. It had been a good death, and it had felt final. He'd been…relieved.

"Father," he says softly. "Why do you continue to punish me? I tried to do as you asked. I went back. I did everything I could. I kept him safe. I _died_ keeping him safe."

"Castiel," says the voice of God, and it's so full of love that it aches deep within him, at the seat of his grace. "Is that what you thought I was asking of you? To live and die for Dean Winchester?"

"It was your last commandment," Castiel says, as if this should be obvious. It _should_ be; God ought to know His own orders, oughtn't he?

"What was my last commandment?"

"You asked us to love them," Castiel whispers it like a prayer, still devout in this one thing, the final order that he actually understood and could perform without reservation. "You asked us to watch over them and to love them as you loved them."

"And you have always gone above and beyond in that respect, haven't you, in spite of all the obstacles thrown in your way. Even when it tore you apart, even when it would have been easier, by far, to simply fall in line with your brothers and sisters and watch the human race burn out of existence."

Castiel's head snaps up, and he strains to see into the impenetrable whiteness, wanting eyes to meet as he says what he feels.

"No, Father. Please don't make me out to be a martyr when I was selfish. I did what _I _felt was right, even when everyone around me said I was wrong. I took the easiest path, I followed my heart when I should have shouldered my responsibilities as a soldier in your army, because I didn't want to lose the things I loved."

"Is that how you see your life?" God sounds disappointed. "There is nothing I can do about it now, but sometimes I wish you had chosen to learn humanity from someone less self-effacing than Dean Winchester."

Castiel actually quirks a small smile at the mention of the name.

"No one else ever had the patience to teach me," he murmurs. He feels what it must sound like when a God sighs ripple the air around him.

"You have always done what I asked, Castiel. You didn't always do it in the way that I would have liked, but…you're a good son. The only son, other than Gabriel, who ever really did what I asked." Castiel hears the pain in the voice when it speaks of his elder brother, and feels it echo within him with a stab of longing to see the only brother who might have understood what has had Castiel twisting and turning and doubting and _dying_ for the last five years.

And yet, unbidden, comes a quiet swell of pride, a comfort he hadn't expected to feel at his Father's words. He thought his faith was long dead and buried, but he finds it again, just enough to be grateful for all of these second chances, and to feel what any son would feel at hearing that he's made his father proud.

"Thank you," he says quietly. He's staring at the ground—white like everything else—now, focusing on his shoes and waiting. Castiel feels that this interview is coming to its end, and he is bracing himself for the oblivion he once begged for, a pit of dread in his stomach. What will it feel like, he wonders, to no longer exist? Perhaps he will simply fade away before he has time to notice that he's gone.

"And now that you have done what I ask, I have a question for you," comes God's voice again, shaking him out of his macabre wondering and confusing him even more. What could God Almighty need to ask a twice-fallen seraph?

"Yes, Father?"

"What do you want, Castiel?"

"What do I…what?" He doesn't understand. He's supposed to fade away. Any second now—

"Yes. Now that you have done all that I have asked of you, and all that Dean has asked…more than any human with a sense of proportion has a right to ask, really…what do _you _want to do?"

Castiel remembers, years ago—lifetimes, really—a similar question under very different circumstances. Once again, he can't stop a smile.

"I thought I'd just…sit here quietly until the end," he says.

"The end of what? Time?" God sounds mildly horrified. "Castiel…child, don't mistake me, I am proud of you…but I don't know that we would be very good roommates."

"No!" Castiel sounds almost as horrified to his own ears. "I mean…that's not what I meant. I thought…won't I…" He stops, frustrated, before finally letting the truth burst out of him.

"I thought this was it! I've had more chances than anyone deserves. I did what you wanted. I took care of Dean! I died to protect him. It was a good death, _finally_ a good death. I thought you might let it be my last."

There is silence for a long moment, and Castiel takes a deep breath. He reminds himself that it's not a good idea to yell at God.

"I'm terrible at explaining things," God says finally, sounding oddly self-deprecating and wry, for an all-powerful creature that lives outside of Time. "I am not punishing you, Castiel. Not again. You have done nothing to deserve a punishment. Nor am I giving you a second chance, in the strictest sense. There is nothing to correct. What I'm offering is…a choice."

"Another choice?" Castiel echoes weakly. He wants to laugh, and to cry. Aren't choices what got him into all his messes in the first place?

"Yes," says God. "A simple choice: what is your reward? You can be finished now. You can have such peace as oblivion may give itself, if that is what you truly want. Or…you can go back, one more time. Not as an angel, but as a human being, to live out such days as you have and then to die. And after…to return to Heaven as a human soul, instead of a soldier."

"Go back…as a human? Live a human life?"

"Yes. A human life. Although given your taste in men, I doubt it will be a normal human life, exactly."

It hits Castiel then: _Dean_. God is giving him a chance to go back to Dean, not as a servant of Heaven but as a man, someone who can live his life with Dean. Castiel feels light-headed at the possibility.

"I…but in Heaven…won't I be alone? Won't I be hunted by my former brothers and sisters?"

"No, Castiel," God says, sounding only a little bit like he's explaining something simple to a child. "You will be protected from the wrath of your brothers and sisters. And you will not be alone. I think you know that already."

This last bit is delivered with a heavy significance that Castiel is almost afraid to acknowledge. He knows what his Father is implying, and it fills him with equal parts joy and dread. There is nothing else in this world that he wants…but it isn't solely up to him, and he knows that.

Of course, God can hear his thoughts.

"Trust me, Castiel. All will be as it should be. Even now, if you listen, you can hear him begging you—even begging _me_—to send you back."

Castiel does listen, and he does feel it, just barely: that faint pinprick of almost desperate irritation at the back of his neck that means Dean is calling. Once he notices it the desire to fly to wherever the man is almost overwhelms him.

God actually _chuckles_.

"It's your choice, Castiel."

And Castiel doesn't hesitate any further.

"Send me back."


End file.
